


closer

by SinSmith



Series: flesh of the servant [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Biting, Body Positive, Body Worship, Bruises, Canonically Fat character, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Play, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Gay Sex, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Peter is fat and Remus is INTO IT, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Shrieking Shack, Top Drop, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Werewolf Sex, Young Peter Pettigrew, Young Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinSmith/pseuds/SinSmith
Summary: A few hours before a full moon, Peter corners Remus in the Shrieking Shack.Peter has a theory to test about wolves and full moons.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin/Peter Pettigrew
Series: flesh of the servant [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958134
Comments: 16
Kudos: 29
Collections: Peter Pettigrew Smutfest





	closer

“You can’t be here! Not today, not like- that!”

“Like what, Moony?”

“Human!”

“Well, I can’t very well have a conversation with you as a rat- and it might make other things inconvenient, frankly-”

“You need to leave.” Remus could smell him even from halfway across the dingy, abandoned building. Over the moss, over the decay, over the moldering dead things in the basement. No, overpowering all of that was Peter. Warm and decadent and savory; a familiar aroma that marked all his clothes, all their shared spaces, that lingered whenever Peter’s head had rested against him for more than a moment. Peter, of course, had no idea. Had no idea that the gentle affection made Remus’ stomach flip, drop, ache- a hunger that was alarmingly visceral. No notion that his presence, his scent, meant pack. Safety. Wanting.

The shorter boy walked forward in an act of surprising bravery. Usually, Peter Pettigrew was the most reserved of them; trouble was always calculated, and he avoided physical harm whenever possible. But in that moment, with the change just a few creeping hours away, Peter walked right towards his friend; his friend the werewolf, the beast.

“Come off it, Moony. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I have to be alone. I have to!” Remus never yelled, but he felt his voice raising, the urgency dragging nails down the back of his throat. It was his curse that meant he had to be alone- would always be a danger to anyone who got too close.

“That’s not really what its about, is it?” Wormtail had this incredibly frustrating way of asking a question that he knew would coax free the answer he’d been looking for. Remus was in no mood to play his games, but he was too agitated to put up much of a fight.

“.... no, of course not. I’m afraid I’ll rip you limb from limb, wanker.”

“I trust you. You won’t hurt me.” There was weight to those words, to the way Peter looked at him with too-bright blue eyes. Then the mousy boy twitched, crinkling his nose as he did at a good joke, sending the freckles that covered his face into smile lines around his eyes. “Besides, I have a… proof to test.”

The night was tense around them, sunset creeping in through the shadows in the creaking boards, cobwebs and creatures in the dark. And there was Peter, leaning against a half collapsed armoire like it was any other day- like they were discussing potions in the common room. It was almost laughable; Peter, the coward, staring down possible disaster without so much as his usual stammer or trembling.

“A proof? Are you mental?” Remus rubbed his eyes, as he did when he was well and truly stuck on a problem, unable to believe that Peter wouldn’t just go. What had gotten into him?

It was the wolf-senses that caught on before his eyes did; the scent of Peter suddenly stronger, the shorter, heavier boy approaching. He wasn’t sure how Peter managed to move so damned silently, but it had been a tactic of his from year one. Hiding from his father, the pastor, Moony imagined.

He didn’t imagine long, though- the freckled, sandy-haired boy that Peter had been slinking around behind pews in some horrid muggle church. Because then Peter was on him, nearly touching him, and his yellow rimmed eyes shot open; he scrambled backwards, shocked and crooked. His limbs went gangly, catching himself on the wall of the shack which, blessedly, didn’t give out.

“Bloody hell, Wormtail, what has gotten into you- this isn’t a joke, you’ll _die_ and it’ll be my fault-”

“Told you already. I trust you.” In the yawning night, Remus was pressed to the wall; his shabby grey sweater crooked, scars on his face glinting silver in the light. And Peter Pettigrew, all warmth and reassurance and adoration, was in his space. “Do you trust me, Remus? I’ve been slaving over books in the library…” That’s how it had started, years ago, when the boys had declared their intent to become animagi. Those exact words. With sly, unassuming Peter slaving over books in the library. He’d never been their equal in school, trailing behind, but Remus had half a notion it was because Peter cared about different things. They none of them more than half knew him.

But the curve of his body was pressed into Remus’ lean stomach, a steady and reassuring weight. He tucked his cheek into the crook of the other’s neck, and Remus couldn’t escape the heady scent of him; like fresh baked meat pies, like sunlight in a library, like woodsmoke and cinnamon, like home. It was alarming how the boy could smell like food and pack in a breath to his baser nature. How close desire and hunger entwined. At some point, Peter’s hands had found his waist and they were stuck like that, embracing. He was so close, raw and beating and alive; and Remus was suddenly gripping him in return, fingers digging into the full flesh of his back through his jumper.

He could feel every point where their bodies touched, could hear Peter’s pounding pulse in his ear; and he felt so overwhelmingly willing. It would be so easy, so easy to catch him on his claws, to bury his teeth into the luscious divot of his neck; to feel viscera bursting over, filling his mouth-

But he wouldn’t. This was Peter, wry and clever Peter, Peter who had held his head when he was shaking from night terrors that wouldn’t relent. Peter who slipped into his bed when James and Sirius were away, Peter who was his confidant; who understood the dark and never judged. Peter, who loved James desperately and loved Sirius well and looked after them- And he was suddenly nauseous at the concept of hurting him, letting out an animal moan.

“Peter, you _have_ to leave. I can’t control myself when I’m like this.”

Remus summoned the will power to push him back, just arm’s length. The other Gryffindor just turned his face to the side, cocking his head, a dimple in his cheek and a too-knowing look in his eyes. Silver moonlight glinted over the sandy blonde curls, the tilted swell of his shoulder- Peter had gotten no thinner as the years passed, but Moony couldn’t help but notice the muscle beneath the surface.

“You just did, didn’t you?”

“You don’t understand. I could kill you- I could hurt you and never notice I was doing it. I would have to carry the weight of that on my conscience and I- I can’t do to you what was done to me, Pete.”

Peter got that quizzical look on his face, too familiar; the scrunch of his nose, the twist of his mouth. Thinking. “I know you don’t want to hurt me. Not in any way I don’t want.”

“It’s not about you. I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing, but there are reasons why we do it this way and you need to _go_ -” He tried to step away from Peter, but the boy was unusually persistent.

“What I see-” Hands caught his wrists, and suddenly Peter demanded his eyes. There was a strange sort of determination there, fiercer than he’d seen. “-is a friend who is scared. And I won’t leave him alone in the dark, not til I have to. We’re a brotherhood.” Remus wasn’t sure where the change had come from, but the other boy looked so staunch- so committed not to leave his side, that dedication that was unshakable. Peter worshiped James and Sirius, Remus knew. But he was loyal to Remus, and maybe that was better. Loyal enough to stand up to him.

The last of the sunlight cast sideways through the dusty windows, and the two boys held eyes; a challenge, a battle of dominance without words. Tired Lupin in his ratty sweater and skin stretched too-tight over his face, sallow and sad- Peter, shorter, heavy, angel-faced and neatly pressed. Neither flinching, just heady breathing and the beast in his head insisting- insisting he win, insisting he put Peter in his place-

Whatever response Remus was mulling over in his head was lost when their mouths were suddenly pressed together; he was unaware who had started it, who leaned in first. It didn’t matter, really, because lips and tongue met- it wasn’t their first kiss, wasn’t their last. But Peter always kissed like it was. A heady desperation, trying to drink in the moment as best he could. And the scent of him overwhelmed Remus’ senses, drowning him, sending him swimming.

A desire to taste him, all of him, to drag him to the floor and claw inside him and taste him _there_ -

As if he could sense it, Peter nipped at his bottom lip, pulled his hair. Grounding him.

“This is a stupid- ah, such a stupid idea-” Peter’s fingers were unhooking his belt, and Remus groaned helplessly into the smooth, freckled curve of his neck. “Pete- are you insane-”

“Maybe.” There was that gap-toothed grin through the darkness, a glint in his eyes. “Do you want it?”

Remus’ cock ached in his slacks, and he didn’t, couldn’t, articulate a response; he pounced on Peter, shoving the shorter boy down to the ground. They collapsed into a pile of limbs and Peter was laughing; a laugh that had always been ugly and unpleasant but it had grown on him, grown on him like the boy himself. Peter was half on his side, braced against the taller boy on top of him; his shirt having ridden up, showing a spanse of pale, plump skin of his stomach.

“You don’t understand-” Remus was trying again, even as he held Peter down to the ground, as he kissed the side of Peter’s soft cheek, the dusting of freckles there. It was hard to focus, though, with the heat of a living body underneath him. The scent of him- the scent of him _wanting_ it. “... I want to…” Their hips were grinding together, and he couldn’t form the words. Couldn’t tell Peter about the roaring in his head, the flashes of hot blood gushing through his teeth, the cold sweat as he pictured Peter bloated and lifeless- those blue eyes wide and flat and dead and the flies…

“Tell me what you want. Whatever it is, however dark or messy... I’ll understand.” Sometimes, Remus swore, it was like Wormtail could read minds. Maybe he gave more away than he intended, was less guarded than he tried to be. The scarred boy’s brow furrowed, and he pulled away- pained. He didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to frighten him, didn’t want to say those horrible things out loud. The things that made him a monster as surely as the fangs and claws.

“I’m not Sirius. I know there are dark places you go, mm? They won’t frighten me.” Peter turned against him, caressing his cheek with thick, sturdy fingers; his hands were so soft, so tender. Peter touched him like he was something holy, something sacred. Like he was worth loving. Loving as he was, even shuddering and sobbing at four in the morning. Peter would wrap him in blankets and walk him home. Every time.

“... it scares _me,_ Pete.” Remus finally admitted, voice small and flat. “What I want scares me.”

Peter didn’t pull away, and with contempt Remus felt the need to lash out; to prove it to him.

“I want to- I want to _eat_ you. I fantasize about sinking my teeth into you and tearing; how your flesh would taste, how it would feel down my throat. Whether you’d gush like a peach, whether you’d struggle, scream-” His voice was more of a growl than anything, eyes flashing yellow in the dim light. “I want to bury myself inside you. Fuck you til sunrise, til your bones break, til you can’t do anything else but take it.” Remus’ eyes were shut, couldn’t look at him, couldn’t think couldn’t breathe-

“A wolf doesn’t eat what he fucks.”

Shock made him open his eyes, nearly hysterical- “What?”

Peter looked a touch more confident, sliding onto his back. Remus was still on top of him, and Peter shrugged his broad shoulders. Whatever Remus imagined his face would look like after a confession like that, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t blue eyes dark, brows lowered, full lips worried by his teeth. It wasn’t desperately aroused.

“You want to eat or fuck me. Not both. Since neither of us wants me to die… I suppose that leaves us with the latter, now doesn’t it?” He’d known Peter was willing, but something in hearing him say it made his stomach flutter; made arousal spark through his body. Something impossible, unknowable, rang true about what Peter was saying- but Remus was so twisted up inside he couldn’t tell if it was the beast, his instinct, or the selfish part of him that desperately wanted to tear off their clothing.

“And, ah, not to be crass but- The wolf might not accept ‘neither’ as an option at this point.” Peter continued, and Remus felt horror swell in his ribs at the notion. The other Gryffindor chose that moment to slide a hand down his side, along his hip; palming him and making him whimper.

“Peter- Peter what if I can’t stop what if-”

“I’m a wizard. I’m not defenseless, I have a plan. I won’t need you to stop.”

“But what-”

“I don’t want you to stop.” Remus felt his cock throb in his slacks, felt his eyes water as his resolve crumbled; just a shuddering, animal noise sliding from him as Peter palmed him. He could feel Peter underneath him, the blood pounding in veins; the hot, luscious flesh of his body just waiting for him. Could smell the arousal on him, that feverish, willing aroma he’d noticed when Peter had walked in earlier. Peter was absolutely eager for it- dripping for it.

“Come here. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” Just the words felt so good; even if they weren’t true, even if Peter couldn’t possibly know what he was asking for. But then again- he did. They’d seen him in wolf form, they’d wrangled him in, kept him company, knew as much about his lycanthropy as he did. And there was Peter, the planner. The ever-prepared. Remus yielded to it, let himself press his weight into the other boy’s body. Caught him in another kiss, heady and rough; pressing his tongue into Peter’s mouth, tasting the sweet heat. Chasing every drop of sweetness.

Peter was so willing, immediately open to him, shutting his eyes and stroking Remus’ cock, making the other grind against his hips. The reserved Gryffindor felt so much more powerful like this, though- there was a strength in those thin limbs that wasn’t normally there. Not lean muscle like Sirius or the easy power of James’- this was something else. Something supernatural.

They rocked into each other, rutted against each other, and Remus let out a low growl- it wasn’t enough. He wanted more than the drag; grinding himself into Peter’s lush hip, into his cupped hand. More fire to his kiss, more desperation. He wanted to taste Peter, taste him everywhere and never stop- A deep growl shoved out of him, resonating against the soft curve of Peter’s throat, the divot in his collar as he kissed there; then bit down, hard, against the sweet pressure of his pulse.

He was so verdant and alive. Remus could hear every light moan, every gasp; the music of how the boy writhed underneath him. Without thought, he undid Peter’s slacks; shoving them down. Remus tugged the offending fabric of his slacks and underthings off and Peter, for once, had the good grace not to protest. The thin boy had clamored down his body to manage it, and he knelt between Peter’s legs on the dusty floor of the shack; pulling off his own sweater and tossing it aside.

Then he caught one of Peter’s thick legs by the ankle, admiring the curve of it; the strength, the dimple just beside his knee. Mouth-watering. He pressed a kiss to his ankle, a bite that made Peter squirm. He kissed higher, tugging Peter’s leg up over his shoulder until he could bury his face into the plush, soft swell of his knee, his upper thigh. Fingers digging into his flesh, he dragged his mouth over the creamy skin; no hair on his inner thigh just bare, unmarked skin. Well that simply had to go.

His mouth closed around flesh, tasting salt and arousal as his vision swam. He closed his eyes and bit down hard; teeth digging into the sensitive skin just above Peter’s knee.

It was the cry that made him finally open his eyes, jarred him out of the trance he’d been in. He looked at Peter, really looked at him. The boy’s blonde curls were tousled around his cheeks, a red flush on his face and spreading down his neck, beneath the disheveled white shirt. Naked from the waist down, his cock was rock hard against his stomach; thick and pink and dripping. His arms were laid out over his head, luxuriating in the attention, but his wand was in his hand; as he’d promised.

A swell of affection the wolf had no words for bubbled inside him, and he growled. “You look… fuck…”

Another blush from Peter, looking down at the other boy; the yellow-rimmed eyes, the scars on his handsome, haunted face; kiss-red mouth. “Waited long enough, haven’t you?”

A growl, shoving his leg to the side and pouncing on top of him, his naked chest pressed to Peter’s shirt. Not self-conscious about his scars, his lankiness, the way he thought too long before he acted. No, this was all raw instinct and this was _Peter_. Peter who would never judge him, who saw the dark, messy places and wanted him just the same; who worshiped him, who was giving himself freely, damn the consequences-

Fingers slid beneath the buttoned white-shirt and tugged with alarming force, buttons scattering as he shoved it off of Peter. The rat-animagus squirmed suddenly, a touch shy as he instinctively brought an arm over his chest; but it did little when paired with the breathless moan the action shoved out of him. Roughly, he forced Peter’s hands over his head; shoving them up so he could drag his fingers down the thick, luscious skin of his body; digging them into his love handles. Their cocks rubbed together shamelessly, and it felt so good. Vulgar, animal; nothing but the slick, heady drag of skin on skin on skin. Peter naked underneath him, wanton and willing; he moaned every time Remus got his mouth on him, biting his collar, around one pink nipple.

Peter would have touched him in return, but each time he tried, Remus had a different plan; a ferocity in the way he manhandled the smaller boy that neither could have anticipated. It was so different than their other encounters; where Peter had goaded and coaxed. No, now Remus was all fire. Lupin forced up his knee again, and Pete grunted, fingers tracing the curve of his ass-

“Let me.” Peter managed, muttering an incantation under his breath. The wolf smelled more than anything the slick tang of the lubricant- the wetness that appeared, glistening, under his fingertips. Filling Peter’s tight entrance from the inside out, making the other moan and whimper. Whatever Peter was thinking, whatever he felt, embarrassment or humiliation, was completely lost to Remus. He only, vaguely, had enough time to be horrified at his own lack of cognition.

Then he was shoving Peter over onto his stomach, growling into the dimple of his lower back. Remus; scrawny, quiet, pensive Remus; grabbed him by the hips and hoisted him onto his knees. Blood was pounding in his ears. The rush of the kill, the throbbing, animal ache of pursuit of prey- the singing victory of a bloody maw, of feeling life between his teeth- there was only one thing that could possibly make this victory better, in truth-

“What if I wanted to fuck you raw?” In Remus’ flat, growled tones it was something impossible. Threatening but delicious, it made Peter shudder from where he was pinned on his knees. Still, even as hard for it as he was, he knew Remus well enough- he never spoke unless there was intention behind it. So he forced himself to focus on the question, the foreign vulgarity of it.

“What, you want it to hurt? You want to hurt me?” He sought out the answers, peering over his shoulder at Remus; the boy still holding his hips, his thighs. Peter wondered if it meant there was something wrong with him that his cock twitched at the notion.

“No.” Came the horrified response, and Lupin couldn’t meet his eyes, looking away- conflict on his face, in the way he twisted his mouth, scars silver in the moonlight.

“So you said it just to scare me.”

“...”

“... I’d struggle. If you tried to fuck me raw. I’d try to get away.” Peter’s voice was real quiet against the hollow creaking of the building around them, the wind outside. And Remus felt himself transfixed, spellbound, as his friend searched his face- as he tried to figure out what it was that Remus couldn’t say out loud. “What would you do next? Hold me down, Remus? Drag me back?”

The shudder that shook Remus’ lean body had nothing to do with the cold, and Peter had his answer.

“Do it, then. Make me take it. If I need you to stop I’ll-” It wasn’t like this was something he did often. Or before with any seriousness. “I’ll shoot sparks.” A slight smile, referring to the utterly useless wandless magic they’d all learned second year for almost exclusively prank handshake purposes. “Now would you _please_ …” Goading, pressing his hips back against Remus’.

That was all the permission the boy needed, shadows cast over the hollowed lines of his face as he grabbed at Peter’s hips to pull them closer. Despite the conversation, he still startled just the same when the heavy boy started to scrabble away over the floor- startled enough he let go of him, and Peter got far enough away that Remus had to go after him; catching at one thick ankle and roughly pulling him back.

“Please- I can’t-” There was force against force, Peter’s weight and strength, despite his height, but Remus was relentless; he yanked the freckled boy closer to him and there was a tussle. Limbs pushing against limbs, naked skin against naked skin; Peter put up a fight, making his eyes wide and grabbing at the floorboards, the leg of the musty old bed. It didn’t matter, though, it was pointless; Remus overpowered him. Catching those scrabbling limbs and shoving him onto his side; forcing him down with his full weight with a vicious growl.

“I can’t take it. Please, Remus, let me go.” Peter whimpered, and Remus felt nauseous, felt his stomach drop with arousal so strong it made him dizzy. His friend was right there, beautiful and begging and flushed, arms crushed into his own chest and his full ass pressed against Remus’ hips. The werewolf grabbed his own cock, rubbing it against Peter’s entrance; still slick with the lubricant spell. “No, no! You’re too big, I can’t- you’ll rip me apart…” Peter whimpered and it was so convincing that Remus’ jaw went slack, looking up at him- but no, Peter’s cock was aching hard, and he was biting his lip; forgetting for a moment to struggle.

Their eyes met and Peter winked at him, the bastard, and Remus felt himself grin. Broad, hungry. Wolfish.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t impossibly hot. If his body wasn’t positively aching with the need to force his way inside Peter, despite how much he struggled; and the concept he could have that, that the boy would give it to him willingly, made him dizzy. His whole being was white hot focus, no words, just the raw desire; the taste and smell and feeling of Peter’s body against him. Lining up, cock in hand, he pressed just inside him- and Peter cried out in earnest, the moan delicious. “Fuck! Remus, please- you’re so big-”

Remus kept Peter on his side, straddling one of Peter’s thighs as he grabbed the other, hoisting it up towards his stomach as he forced his way into him. It was slow and rough, inch after tight inch, feeling Peter’s body yield around him- slick and velvet and hot. He wanted to lose himself in it, and he leaned forward, forehead nearly pressing into Peter’s shoulder, open-mouthed gasping. Then there was a struggle, and the other Gryffindor was trying to squirm away from him, a desperate burst of energy that was ultimately ineffective; Remus grabbed his hips and this time, when he was close enough he forced himself in all the way to the hilt.

It was with a vicious satisfaction he felt Peter shudder; heard the boy moan out and arch. This time, he didn’t relent. There was force wherever he held Peter, crushing him down to the ground as he pulled out and then slammed back in; filling him. The boy writhed around his cock; clenching around him, that tight drag-pull-drag of each thrust making him delirious.

He felt good, so impossibly good. Peter was keeping up a line of protests. “Please, please Moony- it hurts, fuck- fuck- ahn!” He whimpered, full cheeks red as he took the abuse; fingers of one hand still wrapped around his wand, but his attention fully on the point where Remus’ hips snapped into him again and again and again. The sounds of skin on skin filled the air, Peter’s moans and the low, dangerous growl coming from the werewolf. Pounding home time and again, fully filling him each time- making him take each and every inch. Despite his protests, fueled by them, by the notion he could do whatever he wanted and Peter couldn’t stop him-

His fingers found their way around the boy’s thick throat, buried in the lush skin there; gripping hard and Peter moaned desperately, looking up at Lupin through dark lashes. His blue eyes were tinged with red, wet and glossy, but there was no mistaking the way he pressed up into Remus’ long fingers- the way he clenched around him. “You like that, do you?” Remus questioned, tightening his fingers around his throat- Peter’s eyes fluttering, a desperate little nod. “Yes. Yes- fuck me. Make me take it. Anything you want. Make me your bitch, Remus.”

So Remus slammed into his ass, hard enough his whole body shook, rocking and bouncing from it. He used the hand around the boy’s neck as an anchor, fucking into him mercilessly, forcing him down onto his cock as Peter gasped and sputtered. Again and again, chasing that burning horizon- he was caught off guard when a desperate noise from Peter made him lift his gaze; Peter grabbing at him, holding him close as his eyes rolled up; he gasped the word ‘more’ breathlessly. A few more seconds of vicious pounding and Peter was coming, white hot and trembling, his face red and freckled and transformed with absolute blind ecstasy. White stripes of spend marking the filthy floorboards.

Remus didn’t have time to savor it, however, releasing Peter’s throat so he could shove the boy onto his knees. Pettigrew went willingly enough, but he was all pliant and useless; barely able to prop himself up on his hands.

It was all the same to the wolf. Fingers dug into Peter’s hips, certain to bruise, and Remus mounted him; fucking into his tight, slick passage brutally. They were all skin against skin and Peter was burning hot, he was burning hot; the air heavy with arousal and cum and Peter and animal. Whatever lines there had been, whatever tethers had kept Remus from this, had scared him; they melted away and he fucked Peter like a wild animal. Spearing him open time and time again, force of it making the boy’s whole body jerk.

It was too good; that tight clench of his ass around his cock, the slick heat, the way Peter groaned and buried his face in his arms, the luscious flesh and muscle under his fingers, the dimples of Peter’s lower back; the drag again and again and again. Pleasure was roaring in his ears and he chased it with abandon; using Peter viciously, biting into the flesh of his shoulder and tasting hot blood in his mouth as he was driven forward by the throbbing, pounding ache of his own desire-

Peter was tight around him, rocking back against him, and Remus buried himself in entirety, lost to everything but the way Peter’s ass gripped him. Then his vision went red and a throbbing climax shot through him; whole body shuddering as he went tense, biting deeper into Peter’s shoulder, cock filling Peter with pulse after pulse of spend. Shuddering, fucking him, trembling and impossible; coming til it was nearly dripping out of Peter, til the slow rocks of Remus’ hips shoved it out of him.

Even then, Remus didn’t move and Peter didn’t attempt to move him. They stayed there, taking shuddering breaths in tandem. His mouth was heavy with the taste of Peter, copper blood on his tongue- feeling horror seep in through the bone-deep satiation. He slowly, slowly tugged his teeth free from the skin; but the marks were human, human teeth not the sharp points of the wolf. He licked his lips, trying to ignore the way his heart swelled, his stomach dropped at the sight of the wound in Peter’s freckled shoulder- his mark.

“... P-Peter…?” He managed finally, his voice feeling raw and foreign with blood, Peter’s blood, on his tongue; he felt distracted, foggy. “I’m so… I’m so sorry, are you alright…? Peter?”

The boy beneath him let out a deep groan, rocking his hips slow back against Remus’. “For fuck’s sake, don’t be sorry. You are a _ponce_.”

Hysteria built behind Remus’ ribs, and he wasn’t certain if he was going to laugh or cry. Maybe both.

After a moment, though, Peter broke the silence. “Not to be, ah, crass- but can you please… get… out of me? You are big, I wasn’t exaggerating.”

He felt himself turn beet red. After all that, he couldn’t believe that Peter was just- being Peter. He wasn’t horrified, wasn’t running, wasn’t staring glassy eyed into the abyss. He just sounded tired. Remus pulled free immediately, watching his spend drip down Peter’s thick thigh, and the boy rolled over, sitting up so he could face the werewolf, who had sunk back onto his own knees.

Peter was shorter by nearly a head, but Remus looked down at him and saw one cheek was rubbed raw; rub burn from the wooden floor. His mouth parted, horrified, but Peter just grinned at him with his gap-toothed smile. “Well well, Moony, I didn’t know you had it in you. And look at me, still alive and everything.”

A short laugh punched itself out of the scarred boy’s teeth, pushing sweat-damp brown hair out of his own face. “I- you…”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I wanted it. All of it. I knew the risks. And this is nothing- Got worse than this back in primary.” Peter continued, voice rough from use. Remus, however, was trembling; guilt washing over him in waves now the initial blinding desire had subsided, face white.

“Oh, Moony.” Peter exhaled; he hit them both with an easy scouring charm, the air smelling faintly of cinnamon once he was done, and summoned a blanket beneath them before he leaned back against the bed; offering Remus one hand. Disjointed, tumbling and nauseous, Remus didn’t know what to do besides go- so he went, letting Peter guide him down into and embrace, their legs tangled on the floor. Remus was shaking, and the other boy wrapped them both in a second blanket, skin against skin beneath. “You’re alright. I’m alright. That was… delicious, quite frankly, and I am so well-fucked I’d like to sleep for a year.”

A kiss to Remus’ temple, then; so tender and reverent that it made Remus’ eyes water. “You didn’t hurt me. You gave me exactly what I asked for. I trusted you, and you trusted me.” Fingers in his hair and this was Peter- so familiar, every day spent together for nearly seven years. Bony arms wrapped around his thick stomach, and Remus buried himself in Peter’s chest. They’d not done this without- clothing on, much, but it was immensely comforting. Bare skin on skin.

“Did you enjoy it?” Peter finally asked, when the other was still silent. A pause, and then a slow, shy nod. “Mm.” The blonde smiled to himself, contented, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back. “Good. I’d feel quite selfish if I was the only one.” He chided with a smile, that dimple in his full cheek. Remus let out a little scoff, rolling his eyes. “What? I would.” Peter continued. “After that ridiculous _performance_ , too. ‘Remus noooo’.” He teased.

The other boy laughed, feeling more grounded as it went on, as they held each other. “ ‘Make me your bitch’? Wormy, _really_.”

“As if you weren’t _completely_ getting off on that, you pervert.” Affectionately, rubbing the other’s shoulder. They lingered like that, becoming human again for several minutes, just breathing and holding each other and coming to terms with what they’d done.

This time, it was Remus who broke the silence. “You should go. The moon will be rising soon.” The rat-animagi sighed softly, but after brushing soft brown hair away from Remus’ temple, he nodded. “You’re right, of course. But I won’t be gone long. We’ll be back just. You know.”

“Rattier?”

“Just so.” Peter grinned again, peeling himself up off the ground and getting back into his clothes. Remus didn’t bother, just sitting there naked and pulling the blanket closer around himself; he watched his friend dress with covetous eyes, remembering each mark on his skin, the bruises on his love handles, his ass, his throat. “... do you want me to heal those for you?”

“Heal what- oh! The bruises. Are there a lot of them?” Peter smirked a little, pulling on his slacks and peering down at himself, his wrists, before chuckling. His shirt followed suit.

“No. I think I’ll keep them.”

“... because that won’t be distracting at all…”

“What, thinking about shagging me during potions class?” Remus didn’t answer, and that was answer enough to make Peter laugh aloud.

“We’ll be back. You won’t be alone long. And who knows, maybe it’ll be an easier night now that you’re-”

“Now that I’m what?”

“... well-fucked. You know.”

“... Peter! Is that- is that what you came here to test?!”

“I read- well, no, I inferred- that it can make the transformation easier, less harrowing, less destructive. They said ‘physical exhaustion’ and a ‘release of baser instincts’ but- what’s more base instinct than fucking?” Peter asked in that way he did when he knew he was right and was just looking for affirmation.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. See you soon, Moony.”

“... don’t go far.”

“Never do.”

The shorter boy slipped out of the upstairs room, leaving Remus curled on the floor under the blanket, waiting for the moon to rise. He made his way down the creaking stairs, skipping the missing one third from the bottom. The hallway was pitch black.

“Took you long enough.” A voice like thick velvet and ash- Sirius Black.

“Don’t mind him.” James retorted. “He’s just surly that he wasn’t the one to go.”

“Oh, Padfoot. He’d never have let you, we talked about it-”

“I know, I know.” Sirius flicked the butt of his cigarette into a pile of several, crushing it out under his leather boot. Angry, tense, but it would pass.

“We could hear the whole thing, of course.” James explained as the three of them made their way down the front stoop and into the twilight just beyond.

“That was rather the point. In case anything went wrong-”

“Right. In case anything went wrong. But. Wormtail.”

“... what?”

“ ‘ Make me your bitch’? Really?”

“Shut up, Padfoot.”


End file.
